


indecent keepsake

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Tight Clothing, felix ogling dimitri's pecs. and thighs. and everything, kinkmeme fill, summer uniform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The summer uniform is the same size it’s always been. Dimitri, however, is not.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90
Collections: Anonymous





	indecent keepsake

**Author's Note:**

> written for FE3H Kinkmeme
> 
> Someone finds Dimitri’s old summer uniform and he tries it on for nostalgia’s sake. As expected, he’s barely able to fit into it, thighs threatening to burst the seams of the pants (that also refuse to lace up) and shirt threatening to rip if he so much as flexes. Felix walks in on all of this and obviously has no choice but to fuck him.
> 
> \+ If they manage to ruin it in more than one way during all the fucking.

When Felix returns to the king’s chambers that night, he does not, by any means, expect this. _This_ being the aforementioned king, standing in front of the floor-length silver mirror with a hand on his hip and another in his hair, the planes of his broad, muscled back covered only by—

“Dimitri,” Felix starts, very slowly. “What are you wearing.”

Dimitri startles, and turns around, evidently not having noticed Felix entering the room. He looks, of all things, sheepish. Then, after clearing his throat, “It’s our old summer uniform.”

“I know,” Felix snaps, stalking further into the chamber and tossing his cloak on Dimitri’s armchair, and says—the word tumbling near garbled from his too-dry throat, “Why.”

Of course it’s the summer uniform. Felix can see it’s the summer uniform, but he doesn’t remember it being so— _obscene_. Everything about it is tight. The vest, the sleeves, the pant legs, even the boots are bulging, barely containing Dimitri’s decidedly large form. 

Felix refuses to look at his chest. _Refuses_.

“Mercedes brought it back from Garreg Mach on her last visit,” Dimitri is saying, the words distant and far away to Felix, who cannot for the life of him focus on anything but the way the thin fabric perfectly accentuates every curve of Dimitri’s stupidly thick legs. Dimitri, oblivious, continues, “She said it would be a nice keepsake, to remember our time there together—Felix, are you quite alright?”

Felix blinks. His thoughts are still on the defined slope of Dimitri’s toned calves. Saints above, was it always so hot in here?

“Nice of her,” he finally pushes out, eyes still locked on the flex of Dimitri’s thighs as they grow bigger in his field of view. He blinks again, and then there’s a hand wrapped around his arm, and Dimitri’s single eye is staring at him worriedly, his beige-clad thighs right in front of him; large, thick, and tantalizingly in reach—

“You look a bit feverish,” Dimitri tells him, voice sickeningly earnest. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

Felix swallows. Tears his eyes away from Dimitri’s thighs and tries to raise them, only to be met with dark, gleaming buttons, which if he were to undo would reveal the glistening milky skin and soft pink nipples he knows are hidden beneath the indecently tight fabric, the colour of which in no way helps his case.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, with difficulty, transfixed by the way the beige vest is pulled taut around every curve of muscle that makes up Dimitri’s round, supple pecs. How is any of it still in one piece? Surely the vest, at least, should have burst. 

It’s out to get him, he decides. The uniform’s personal vendetta: to cockblock _him_ , the Duke Fraldarius. Curse the damn thing. “I’m fine.”

Dimitri, whose eye he still can’t meet, doesn’t sound convinced. “You don’t sound fine,” he says, stating the obvious. “Whatever the matter is, do let me know how to rectify it, Felix. I cannot stand seeing that dismal look upon your fa—”

“Dismal?” Felix balks, finally attaining coherency, if only for a moment. He steps back, shakily, and wrenches his arm out of Dimitri’s grasp (noting, quite tragically, that Dimitri’s hands are also large, his palm alone wide enough to nearly encircle Felix’s wrist). “Don’t be daft. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Dimitri cocks his head, considering. Still confused, but now finally _seeing_ Felix. Seeing his flushed cheeks, the bead of sweat collecting at his brow, the way his lips are parted in wanting. And then, as if having reached an understanding, Dimitri’s eye travels lower, to the obvious, tenting bulge in his pants. 

Felix says nothing. Looks on, expectant, as Dimitri licks his lips, single eye going dark. Despite it all, he shivers. 

“I see.” Dimitri draws nearer, the fabric stretching painfully wide across his broad, filled frame, a large hand settling heavy on Felix’s upper arm. Felix sucks in a breath as Dimitri leans close, bringing them nose to nose. “Tell me what you want, Felix.”

“Don’t ever speak to me again,” Felix says, and presses their lips together. 

Dimitri’s lips are warm and soft and pliant, opening for Felix with ease to deepen the kiss. His other hand comes to rest on Felix’s hip—large, hot, and firmly gripping—and Felix moans into Dimitri’s mouth even as his face burns. They’re standing impossibly close, chest to chest, and Felix can feel the thick muscle of Dimitri’s generously endowed cleavage pressing up against him, firm and unrelenting. His dick twitches in his breeches, and Dimitri breaks away. 

His eye, lidded, searches Felix’s flushed face before moving downward to his still-clothed form.

“Let me undress you,” Dimitri says, even as his hands reach the fastenings of Felix’s vest—which falls to the floor in a matter of seconds—and then further, to the laces of his inner tunic. 

Felix angles his face to the decorated ceiling as Dimitri’s hands undo the ties, mouthing at his neck all the while. He’ll have marks there, no doubt about it, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. Not now, not when Dimitri’s beefed-up shoulder is mere inches away from his chin, large and imposing and still covered by the stupidly tight fabric of Dimitri’s stupidly tight shirt.

He can just barely feel Dimitri’s strong forearms ghosting across his chest as he struggles with the delicate ties, and Felix feels smug, for once, until he hears a sudden rip. His dick, which is still painfully hard, jumps as his head snaps down to face Dimitri’s tiny, sheepish smile. The thin ties are held pathetically in Dimitri’s huge hands, and his tunic, well. Felix’s dick isn’t the only thing about him that’s hard now, that’s for sure.

“Sorry,” Dimitri says, breath reaching Felix’s peaking nipples, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “I seem to have lost control of myself a bit, there.”

“Bed,” Felix replies sharply as his knees tremble, threatening collapse. “Now.”

Dimitri needs no other affirmation to drop the ties and wrap his stacked, heavenly arms around him, and then Felix is off the ground, slung over Dimitri’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His eyes are gifted with a front-row seat of Dimitri’s ass—as thick and supple as the rest of him—and despite the force of gravity, Felix’s blood makes a beeline for his groin instead of his head. However, he has barely a second to think about the ramifications of gravity failing at its one job before Dimitri deposits him on the sheets and dives for his pants.

“Wait,” Felix insists breathlessly, “You oaf, my shirt is still on—”

Dimitri ignores him, hands going for the laces of Felix’s breeches. Felix gasps as his hands brush against his cock, aching at the fleeting friction. His hips jerk up involuntarily, desperate for contact, but one of Dimitri’s hands finds its way to Felix’s stomach and shoves him down into the mattress, and that’s the end of that. Felix squirms in protest, but Dimitri’s palm is firm and unyielding, so instead he moans, wantonly, until he feels Dimitri slide his pants and underclothes off of him in one fell swoop.

Thankfully, he manages to keep his strength in check this time, and Felix’s pants, from what he can gather in his compromised position, are still intact. Not on his legs, of course, but on the floor with his boots and underclothes after Dimitri dislodges them from his feet and tosses them aside. 

The air is cold against his skin. His only remaining item of clothing is the thrice-damned tunic, ripped down the middle by Dimitri’s inhuman strength. Dimitri sits between his legs, broad hands wrapped around Felix’s bare thighs, and stays there, watching curiously as pre-cum dribbles from Felix’s cock. 

Felix glances at the uniform buttons through lidded eyes, and is shocked, again, to find them still attached to the vest. He’s frozen in place, forced to watch as Dimitri licks his lips for the second time that night.

“Tell me what you want, Felix,” Dimitri echoes, hands tightening around Felix’s thighs. Felix opens his mouth to answer, but then notices the sleeves. Of Dimitri’s shirt. Which are rolled up haphazardly, showing off his lightly haired forearms. When did he manage to roll them up? How did the sleeves even roll up without tearing? Felix closes his mouth. Opens it again, like a fish.

“Use your words,” Dimitri says, and oh, Felix is going to _kill him_. Nonplussed, Dimitri leans forward—the fabric stretching downright sinfully across his pecs—and licks a stripe along the underside of Felix’s aching cock, to which Felix throws his head back, hands fisting in the sheets. 

“Tell me, Felix,” Dimitri implores, before licking again, his tongue rough against the delicate skin.

“Hng,” Felix says. And then, resigned, “Dimitri.”

Dimitri leans close, hot breath drifting over the head. “You still haven’t told me what you want.”

Felix angles his head down, pausing in his wanton lament at the ceiling. Brows furrowed, hair matted to his forehead, he frowns. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Dimitri, the cheeky bastard, smiles.

“Fine.” Felix relents, ignoring the way the blood pounds in his ears. “Suck my dick, you asshole.”

“That’s better,” Dimitri says, and does exactly that. 

As soon as Dimitri takes him in, Felix moans. Dimitri’s mouth is just as big and hot as the rest of him, and his _tongue_ —had this been the Dimitri the summer uniform was made for, one would never have even begun to guess at his true talents. One definitely wouldn’t be able to imagine him sucking the dick of his duke, several years down the line. Not that Felix had imagined that then, either. 

Dimitri bobs around him, slowing around the head as his tongue slips into the slit, wet and warm. Felix grips the sheets harder as he feels his hips begin to buck, but Dimitri brings a hand to his stomach again, halting the movement. It’s torture, being restrained like this without relief as Dimitri’s skillful mouth takes him apart from tip to base. Felix trembles, moaning weakly as Dimitri sucks him off. 

He’s hot, heat building in his groin, his face, his hands—which shake, clenched as they are around the sheets. Blood rushes past his ears, receding to his cock as Dimitri makes another pass across his slit. He keens, high-pitched and desperate, breath coming fast through pursed lips. Pressure builds in his stomach, heat pooling heavily just above the crest of Dimitri’s head, and Felix knows he’s close. “ _Dimitri_ , I can’t—”

And just like that, the mouth around his cock is gone, and Dimitri is gazing at his face instead. Felix releases a heavy breath as a shudder runs through him, temporary relief coursing through his veins. He jerks his head towards the bedside table when their eyes meet, too strung out for words. 

Thankfully, Dimitri doesn’t make a fuss this time, obediently rising to get the oil. This does, however, result in Felix getting a full-body view of the uniform at its finest, stretched tight across every part of him, tapering perfectly at the waist and shaping the area below. As Dimitri rustles through the drawer, Felix can’t take his eyes off the way the fabric bunches just below his ass. Seiros, he wants a closer look, a touch—anything to ease the renewed pressure on his weeping cock.

He could fuck those thighs, if he wanted to. Stick his cock between Dimitri’s legs and thrust between them, pants scraping against the flesh of him all the while. Dimitri would arch his back and moan, loudly, and Felix would give him a taste of his own medicine and shove his face into the pillows before fisting his hands into that damned shirt and ripping it in two, ending its unholy reign on Felix’s weak dick at last. Seiros, it would be _divine_. 

Dimitri comes back, then, tossing the bottle of oil onto the bed, his hands going for the—wait. The laces of his pants, which are already undone, which have probably never been laced in their entirety because Dimitri is too damn _built_ for this small, unfairly sexy uniform. 

Felix reaches out before he can stop himself. “Wait.”

Dimitri glances up, tilting his head in confusion. Felix rises, leaning forward and getting on his knees, tunic trailing behind him and cock bobbing as he crawls to the edge of the bed.

“Wait,” Felix says, and goes for the laces. “Let me.”

Dimitri freezes under his touch, at first, and Felix can see the fabric move as he exhales—the gentle shift of the beige, the way the shirt marginally loosens—it’s enough to drive him _mad_. Not to mention that being this close to the laces of Dimitri’s pants means being this close to Dimitri’s cock, which is huge, and bulging, and Felix can see the wet spot where his pre-cum leaked through the thin layer of fabric. Though, all things considered, it shouldn’t have made a stain this big; Dimitri must be really riled up.

Felix frowns, forgoing the fragile laces entirely, tugging Dimitri’s pants down as quickly as he can. It’s surprisingly difficult—they sit incredibly tight, as if the fabric has molded itself to the shape of him. Felix grunts and persists, though the process is slow, impeded further by the way Dimitri moans and buries a hand in Felix’s hair. 

He gets the pants halfway down Dimitri’s ass before his cock springs free, big and leaking, and it’s here that Felix also realizes the conspicuous lack of underclothes.

“Dimitri,” Felix starts, throat dry, eyes pointedly fixed on his cock because that, at least, he can look at without wanting to hightail it out of there and never return. “Were you not wearing anything under this?”

Were Felix looking at his face, he would have seen Dimitri blush an embarrassing scarlet. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t see, but hears, instead, the abashed tone with which Dimitri tells him, “I couldn’t get the pants on with underclothes beneath.”

Huh. 

Felix takes one of his balls in hand, considering. Watches with a twisted sort of pleasure as Dimitri quivers under his touch, keening in a way that would be considered downright sinful were it not offset by his earlier tone of voice. The hand in his hair tightens. Felix relents, briefly glancing up.

Dimitri’s face is pinched, breath coming in heavy pants. His other hand, the one that’s not buried in Felix’s hair, is pressed in a fist to his mouth. Felix brings a hand to Dimitri’s cock, wrapping his fingers around it and giving an experimental tug, just to watch Dimitri release a series of breathy moans above, the sound of it musical in Felix’s ears. Serves him right, for parading in that tight, indecent uniform, for mouthing at Felix’s dick when he didn’t even have the decency to wear anything under those obstinate trousers.

“Felix,” Dimitri says, voice rough and heated. Only then does Felix stand, coming face to face with Dimitri’s insanely toned breasts, eyes trained upwards so that his dick doesn’t have a stroke at watching the fabric protrude, ever so slightly, at the nipples.

Dimitri’s face only reddens further when Felix takes him by the wrist and leads his fist away from his face. The hand that used to be in his hair has now moved to his shoulder, gently thumbing at his tunic. Dimitri uncurls his fist, slowly reaching for his own buttons, but Felix grips his wrist tighter, in warning. 

“Leave the shirt,” Felix says, breathless, eyes going to Dimitri’s lips. “Take mine off, instead.”

Dimitri’s throat bobs as he swallows, nodding, and the hand at Felix’s shoulder grips the fabric with a bit more force. His breath hitches as Dimitri leans down to kiss him, large hands pushing the tunic down from his shoulders until it slips off entirely, hanging limply at his elbows. 

Felix breaks away first, inclining his head to press his lips to the soft skin of Dimitri’s neck. Dimitri’s hands tighten around his arms as he buries his face in the crook of Felix’s shoulder, the shirt bunching beautifully to accentuate his muscled back, and the sight leaves Felix weak.

“Dimitri,” he says, low and dark, as his hand travels downwards to grasp at Dimitri’s cock. Dimitri gasps against him, but Felix continues, the most assertive he’s been all night; “I want you to fuck me. With the uniform.”

Dimitri moans as Felix twists his wrist, dick twitching curiously in Felix’s firm hold. He wants this too. Good.

Felix steps back, calves hitting the edge of the bed, and that’s all the warning he gets before Dimitri turns him around and presses him to his chest. The fabric of the uniform is rough against his bare back as Dimitri’s exposed cock rubs teasingly between his cheeks. 

His breath stutters when Dimitri’s lips close around the junction of his neck. He’s hard, desperate, almost, when Dimitri shoves him forward into the mattress. The air rushes out of him as he hits the sheets, gasping as Dimitri lifts his hips and pushes his knees further up on the bed, ass presented for the taking.

Felix hears the sound of a cork being unscrewed behind him and shivers in anticipation. He doesn’t have to wait long; a wet, dripping finger slides between his cheeks soon enough, prodding at his puckered hole. Felix inhales sharply as Dimitri pushes in, gently kneading the soft flesh of his ass with his other hand, mindlessly holding him in place as he begins to open him up.

Felix moans at the intrusion, and Dimitri pushes further, slowly but surely. The stretch is familiar—welcome, even—though the oil is cold against his too-hot skin. It takes a moment to get used to the sensation, but Felix is in no way unaccustomed to having fingers up his ass, be they Dimitri’s or his own. 

“Is this alright?” Dimitri asks, in that princely, earnest voice of his and Felix doesn’t yell, but it’s a near thing, because his cock is dripping and the finger in his ass _isn’t moving_.

“Fine,” he grunts, and then drives his fist into the sheets in frustration. “Don’t stop. You can add more than one, I won’t break.”

“If you say so,” Dimitri says, and does as he’s told, carefully nudging a second, oil-slick finger into Felix’s awaiting hole.

Better. Felix feels startlingly full already, chest rising and falling fast and forced as Dimitri works his fingers all the way in. And, well. If he thought Dimitri’s tongue was skilled, then his fingers were made for this. Knuckles pushed up to the warm flesh of his ass, Dimitri goes for the kill and _twists_ , angling his fingers up in a way that makes Felix’s head spin. 

“There,” he chokes out as Dimitri strokes that spot inside him, eyes squeezed near shut as his entire body shakes. His dick, the traitorous thing, _quivers_ at the attention of Dimitri’s fingers below, heat pooling quickly beneath Dimitri’s other hand as he holds his cheeks wide open.

Dimitri removes his fingers, for a moment, and Felix strains to turn his head, just barely able to catch a glimpse of Dimitri with the bottle of oil as he pours it over his hand. Then, those rough fingers are at his hole again, pushing in with three, and Felix buries his head in the pillows to muffle the indecent sounds coming from his mouth.

“ _Dimitri_ ,” Felix moans as Dimitri scissors him open, feeling overwhelmed as every callous scrapes against his sensitive walls. Dimitri only hums in return and drives his fingers deeper, curling his hand once more to stroke at every sensitized part of him. 

It’s horrid, what the treatment does to his dick. He’s leaking all over the sheets, pre-cum beading and falling from his reddened tip. Shameful, really, that he could be taken apart so easily by a uniform and a well-slicked hand, and Dimitri’s dick hasn’t even been inside him yet.

He decides, then and there, that he’s sick of waiting. “Dimitri.”

“Yes?” 

“Stop beating around the bush,” Felix says, voice low and strained. “Put it in already.”

“Are you sure?” Dimitri questions, and Felix can _hear_ the worried upturn of his brows. “I’ve only got three—”

“Fuck you,” Felix breathes through gritted teeth, reaching behind him and slapping Dimitri’s hands away from his ass. His dick springs upward as he twists in the sheets, positioning himself so that he’s lying on his back, staring at Dimitri between his knees. “ _Yes_ , I’m ready,” he adds for good measure, and watches as Dimitri’s lips part.

“Alright,” Dimitri says, voice held at a whisper as he rises to stand over Felix, pink dusting his cheeks. The stupid beige pants are still bunched halfway down his thighs, leaving little room between his legs. Felix scoots back to give him space to kneel on the bed, spreading his knees for easy access. 

Dimitri shuffles awkwardly forward, bracing himself on his arms, and Felix doesn’t fail to notice that the shirtsleeves are _still_ rolled up and intact, Seiros knows how. He swallows dryly at the sight of Dimitri above him, heat pouring from his broad frame. Up close, between the collar of the vest, the shirt looks even more thinly stretched, seams stark against the tight fabric. His dick twitches again. Of course.

Felix angles his hips upwards, hurriedly shoving a pillow beneath his lower back to raise his ass off the bed. Dimitri doesn’t move his hips closer, cock hanging just out of reach, but moves a hand to gently caress Felix’s cheek. Slides it down, over the flesh of his neck and to his bare chest, curiously thumbing over one of Felix’s hard nubs. Felix’s breath hitches as he does, back arching involuntarily, neck craned backwards almost painfully.

“Dimitri,” he moans, hand grasping for purchase around the wrist of Dimitri’s exploring hand. “Please.”

Dimitri shudders at the sound of his name falling so brokenly from Felix’s lips and leans down, attaching his mouth to where his thumb used to be. Felix gasps, hand curling tighter around Dimitri’s forearm, nails digging into the bunched fabric of the sleeve. 

“Come _on_ ,” he prompts again as Dimitri mouths at his nipple, hot breath ghosting over the skin of his chest. “Dimitri, _please_.”

And finally, _finally_ he feels something prod against his hole that isn’t Dimitri’s finger. It’s larger, hotter, familiar in shape. 

“Are you ready?” Dimitri says into his shoulder, and Felix barely registers the words as the fabric of the uniform brushes against his skin.

“Stop asking,” Felix returns, legs shaking. “Do it already.”

This time, he doesn’t need to say it twice. Dimitri’s hand leaves his chest and reaches lower, passing by Felix’s leaking cock to feel at his hole and to angle himself between Felix’s open cheeks. Then, at last, he begins to push.

Felix thought himself ready, and yet the sheer _size_ of Dimitri takes him by surprise. His mouth falls open noiselessly as Dimitri enters him, trying to cry out at the stretch but failing, miserably, his skin near feverish with heat. Dimitri suddenly stops to meet his gaze, to which Felix turns his head away, face burning. 

“More,” he says desperately. “Dimitri, come on, _more_.”

Felix hears an intake of breath above him, and Dimitri obliges, sinking into his hole with practiced ease. It’s comforting how familiar this feels, but the novelty of the uniform tight around Dimitri’s broad chest is not lost on either of them. 

Dimitri pushes in further, and Felix thinks, for a moment, that he’ll be split in two on his massive girth. His cock is huge, rough as Dimitri sheathes it completely, leaving Felix gasping for breath, hands trembling as he grasps the sheets. Hilted in full, the stretch is unreal, and Felix moans when Dimitri’s other hand finds purchase on his hip and slowly, torturously, begins to move.

Pleasure jumps up his spine like an electric shock as Dimitri buries himself to the hilt for a second time, and then comes straight down to his dick as he does it a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. 

Soon enough, Dimitri is plowing into him just as Felix wants, his cock long and thick inside him, so utterly wide that Felix is struck again by the thought that he might be torn in two. He moans as Dimitri’s shirt rubs across his chest with every thrust, crying out with every flex of muscle underneath the taut fabric. 

Heat collects in his gut, pushing him closer to the edge with every punishing advance on his hole. He’s stretched to his limit and so unspeakably full, sweat shining on his brow, his chest—the heat makes it hard to breathe. Dimitri pistons in and out of him at a breakneck pace, pulling out and slamming back in with enough force to drive Felix half a foot up the bed.

Pleasure and pain blend together as the stretch becomes unbearable, and Felix cries out, loud and unapologetic, struggling to form Dimitri’s name as he blabbers senseless nonsense. Dimitri doesn’t stop, and Felix is thankful right up until he feels a hand around his dick, and then everything is blurry because he’s so _close_ —

Dimitri twists his hand, stroking him in time with every brutal intrusion, and Felix wails as his vision goes white, cum splattering his stomach and the stupid, ridiculous vest. His breathing comes in heavy pants, broken cries falling from his lips, yet Dimitri doesn’t stop, pushing in further and faster, seeking his own pleasure now that Felix reached his. 

His thrusts are deep, cock hitting that spot inside him every time despite the frantic, frenzied pace. Felix feels tears collecting at his lashes, rolling down his cheeks as his overstimulated dick twitches weakly, so spent that he can’t even clench around Dimitri’s width, only lie there and take it as Dimitri drives into him time and time again. 

Dimitri’s breath hitches as he reaches the precipice, inhaling sharply, back arching beautifully above him as he tumbles over the edge. Warmth spreads through his gut as Dimitri empties himself inside him with a final, desperate thrust. Felix gasps despite himself, and Dimitri shouts, hand tightening painfully around Felix’s waist as his muscles flex. Faintly, Felix hears the telltale rip of fabric as Dimitri buries his head in his neck, hair fanning across Felix’s field of view. 

And then, at last, Dimitri collapses, going boneless above him as his weight sinks onto Felix’s chest, pinning him to the sweat-soaked sheets. Felix feels his sigh sooner than hears it, his back visibly deflating. He lets out his own, shaky breath in a rush, raising a trembling hand to move Dimitri’s wet hair from his face.

For a moment, all is quiet but for the sound of their breathing, heavy and exhausted as it is. Felix recovers first, gently prodding at Dimitri’s heavy shoulder, and Dimitri eases off him, gently rolling to the side.

Felix sits up slowly, shivering as he reaches for the blanket shoved haphazardly at the far end of the bed and wraps it around his shoulders. Dimitri, meanwhile, rolls over to his back, eye lazily drifting to Felix’s face as he extends a hand to rest against his exposed hip. The corners of his mouth are angled gently upwards, and Felix feels himself warm despite it all, a small smile playing on his lips.

But then, his eyes drift downwards, and the smile is wiped clean from his expression, eyes widening in shock. Dimitri starts, face suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Holy shit,” Felix breathes in response, “Dimitri, the fucking _uniform_.”

Dimitri blinks, but glances down, and his own eyes widen, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. The buttons from the vest are gone, having popped off and rolled Seiros-knows-where, leaving the garment undone and open, fully exposing the shirt beneath. The shirt is ripped at the seams in more places than one, with the largest tear going down the centre of Dimitri’s chest, finally revealing his toned, glistening tits.

Felix’s eyes travel further, to Dimitri’s pants, which are now two completely separated leg-warmers and not breeches fit for use in any capacity whatsoever. His mouth runs dry, and his dick, spent as it is, twitches in interest.

Dimitri, still looking down at his body in what seems to be abject horror, slowly begins to laugh. It starts quiet, and then becomes loud, the warm sound of it falling helplessly from his pink lips, eyes squinting in barely contained amusement. 

Felix sits ramrod straight beside him. Frozen, completely, until Dimitri grabs him and brings him down on top of his chest, his composure broken as he lets out an indignant squawk of surprise. Dimitri only chuckles, burying his nose in Felix’s neck, hair tickling his face. 

“Hey,” Felix protests weakly, his own laugh bubbling in his chest as Dimitri holds him tighter. “Come on, knock it off.”

Dimitri only hums in response, single eye sliding closed as he sighs, contented. Felix’s face heats up, but this time it has nothing to do with arousal.

“I’m glad, Felix,” Dimitri says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get sappy now,” Felix huffs, squirming in Dimitri’s firm, steady grip. “You just had your dick up my ass.”

Dimitri only chuckles at that, and lets a hand drift to Felix’s face. He’s gentle, unbearably so, as he tucks a stray lock behind Felix’s ear.

“Quite astute of you,” he says, fond, and it tugs a smile from Felix anyway.

“You’re welcome, for what it’s worth,” he replies, curling into Dimitri’s side as his finger trails absently along his sculpted chest, then stops. Frowning, Felix looks up at Dimitri through his lashes. “Though there’s no way in hell we’re taking this to the tailors, you hear?”

Dimitri throws his head back, then, belting out another beat of laughter as Felix’s cheeks redden.

“No, I suppose not,” Dimitri tells him once his laughter subsides, languidly leaning into the pillows, ruined shirt and all. “It’ll be our secret, won’t it? Just like old times.”

Despite himself, Felix smiles. “Yeah. Just like old times.”

**Author's Note:**

> happy friday (it’s friday somewhere)


End file.
